


Assemble

by ami_ven



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marvel Avengers Fusion, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Community: romancingmcshep, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:39:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5883016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve got an unfrozen national icon, a genius with a metal suit, an alien thunder goddess, a Runner, and two government agents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assemble

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "romancingmcshep" 2016 prompt #110 "Pegasus Avengers"

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you’d found him?” demanded Rodney, striding onto the bridge of the _Atlantis_.

“Good morning, Dr. McKay,” said Director Weir, dryly. She folded her hands behind her back, long coat swishing as she turned to look at him. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have made tea.”

Rodney waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes, Elizabeth, another time I would gladly subject you to a diatribe against your decaffeinated leaf-water, but I’m kind of in a hurry. _Why didn’t you tell me?_ ”

“That information was need-to-know,” said Weir’s second-in-command, Agent Woolsey. “And you didn’t.”

“I should have been the _first_ to know!” Rodney protested. “I have been looking for Colonel America my entire life, Elizabeth, you can’t just—”

“You’re too high profile, Rodney,” she interrupted. Weir swiped a hand at a nearby console and the monitors above it lit up with footage of his Dr. Iron armor, followed by the interview where he’d revealed his identity to the entire viewing public. “We had to make sure it was actually him, and that there weren’t any… complications.”

“Complications? The man was buried in ice for seven decades, and you decided to screw with his brain the moment he woke up!”

“That was a miscalculation,” Elizabeth allowed. “But things are changing and the SGC has to keep up with them. If you weren’t so absolutely convinced that you’re the smarter than everyone you meet—”

“Mostly because I am,” Rodney muttered.

She ignored him. “—I might have included you more, but I wasn’t willing to take the risk.”

“Risk,” he said, scowling. “Of course.”

“This requires teamwork, Rodney,” said Weir, clearly trying to be sympathetic. “And let’s face it, you aren’t that good at following orders.”

“I’m not the only one,” he said. “Did you even read the man’s file? He would have gotten more than just the _one_ black mark if the Army Air Corps hadn’t thought it would be a PR disaster.”

Again, Weir ignored him. “We’re happy to have you consult, Dr. McKay, but I already have my own people working on this. I’m sure you can see yourself out?”

He snorted. “I’m sure I can,” Rodney muttered, and called his armor to him even before he’d completely stepped onto the _Atlantis_ ’s carrier deck.

*

John jerked his head up when the treadmill’s timer beeped, signaling the end of another hour, but he jabbed a finger at the controls, resetting it back to zero and resuming his pace.

He hadn’t been outside in… actually, he couldn’t remember. More than a week, at least, possibly more, the way interchangeable SGC agents kept restocking his fridge. Less than a month, though, because Director Weir showed up like clockwork every thirty days, with speeches about honor and duty, as if John hadn’t already given his life for his country.

“What the hell?” said a voice, suddenly, and John nearly tumbled off the treadmill in surprise. “This place is like a goddamn museum.”

The man was wearing a suit, but unlike all the fridge-filling agents, his was clearly expensive and tailor-fit. He crossed his arms, flexing broad shoulders against the fabric as he looked around.

“Seriously,” the man continued. “A _bad_ museum. Because half this stuff is not just reproductions, but stuff that never even existed in the forties.”

John hit the stop button on the treadmill controls and stepped off, grabbing a town from its rail. “Can I help you, Mr…?”

“It’s ‘doctor’, actually,” the man corrected. “PhD, two of them, and neither in the voodoo quackery of medicine. And I was going to be surprised that you didn’t recognize me, colonel, but it seems like you don’t have a TV in this godforsaken time capsule.”

“I don’t,” said John. He probably should have been offended, but after the first few months, he’d started to hate this place. “But now that you mention it, you do seem familiar. It’s McKay, isn’t it?”

“I knew you were smarter than that hair let on,” said the man— Dr. M. Rodney McKay, apparently— wandering slowly across the room. “I have a proposition for you.”

John slung the towel around his neck. “What makes you think you’re my type?” he asked.

“Innuendo, how original,” McKay said, dryly. “Do you talk to Weir like that?”

“She send you, then?” retorted John. 

“She pretty much told me never to speak to you,” the other man replied. “Something about not playing well with others.”

“Really? And what are you offering that the SGC isn’t?”

“Everything,” said McKay, but it sounded less like a boast and more like a promise. “I’ve read your file, Sheppard, even the classified bits. You agreed to the Colonel America USO tour after your first black mark, but only because you thought it was your only option. When you heard your friend Ford was in trouble—”

“ _Don’t_ mention Ford!” John snapped, but McKay didn’t flinch.

“You risked your career and your life trying to save him,” the other man said, more softly. “That’s not the kind of man who’s going to let the SGC parade him around as a recruiting tool, a figure head relic of ‘the good old days’. You want in on the action. And I can give you that. If you join my team, and not Weir’s.”

“You have a team?” asked John. “There’s more of us?”

“No,” McKay admitted. “There’s just us.”

John smiled, for what felt like the first time since he’d woken up in this century. “I’m in.”

*

“You can do math,” Rodney said, dumbfounded.

John looked up from the white board he’d covered with tiny, precise equations. “Um, yes?” he said. “I asked Radek what I could do to help around here, and your computer-lady said this one had gotten you—”

“No, you _can do math_ ,” Rodney repeated. “MIKO, what did you give him?”

“ _The equations for the new reactor shielding, sir_ ,” his AI replied. “ _And Colonel Sheppard appears to have solved them._ ”

“They were more complex than actually difficult,” John defended, rubbing the back of his neck. “But if you’d rather I didn’t—”

“No,” Rodney interrupted again. “There’s no way you’re getting out of this now, Sheppard. I usually have Radek do my math for me, but he’s always got excuses— _It’s one AM, Rodney_ — _I have to go run your company, Rodney_ —”

“To be fair, he does run your company,” said John.

Rodney narrowed his eyes at him. “And why didn’t I know this about you? There is nothing in your file about any education above high school.”

“Because there wasn’t any,” John told him. “I joined up as soon as I could, but the math… I had some old books, and it was something I could work on even when my unit was… What?”

“You taught yourself post-graduate level math for fun in the middle of a war?” Rodney demanded.

“Um… yes?” said John.

“And Weir wanted to _waste your brain_ on some stupid publicity tour?”

“Well, how should I—?”

“Never mind!” Rodney interrupted. “You are just… It’s unfair, you know that? Bad enough you have to be ridiculously handsome, with that hair—”

“What’s with you and my hair?” John muttered.

“—and that stupidly attractive slouch, but you just have to be _smart_ on top of it. Seriously, Sheppard, if I didn’t know for a fact that I wasn’t your type, I would make you a very different proposition right now.”

John was quiet for a long moment, then he said, softly, “Who said you’re not?”

“You said…” Rodney began. “ _Am_ I?”

“What? Smart, brave, generous, loyal… And those blue eyes and broad shoulders definitely don’t hurt.”

“You’re serious,” the other man said, incredulous.

“Rodney…” said John. He took a step forward, reaching for Rodney’s hand, and his smile brightened when Rodney let him take it. “I’ve known you for months now. And I’ve been reading up on this new century. In my day, we had to hide stuff like this, guys who liked fellas instead of dames, but it’s okay now, isn’t it? I mean, if _I’m_ not _your_ type, you can turn me down, no hard feelings, but if—”

Rodney didn’t wait to find out ‘what if’, he just used John’s hand to pull him in for a long, deep kiss.

“Yeah,” said John, grinning. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.”

*

“I think we ought to at least listen to Weir’s idea,” said John.

He’d lured Rodney out of his lab with dinner and sex— John was a surprisingly good cook and not nearly as much of a prude as the old news reels made out— and they were lying in bed, still a little too high on endorphins to sleep.

“You mean her super-powered boy band?” Rodney asked. “That idea?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s sexist to call it that,” said John. “But, yes. Let’s face it, Rodney, there are bad people out there. Maybe more than just Colonel America and Dr. Iron can handle.”

“Dr. Iron and Colonel America,” Rodney retorted, automatically.

“Rodney…”

“The people on her list aren’t exactly play-nice-with-others types, either,” he pointed out. “And, yes, I hacked the SGC records for their files. The caveman that smashed up Harlem, the alien that crash-landed in New Mexico… it’s _still_ a toss-up whether they’ll get recruited or taken out.”

“The government doesn’t ‘take people out’,” John scoffed, then froze. “Do they?”

“I’ll think about it,” said Rodney, instead of answering that, and wriggled more firmly against John’s side.

*

Rodney didn’t get time to think about it.

“You’re working for Weir?” he screeched, rounding on Zelenka’s new supposedly-brilliant assistant, who had apparently been an undercover SGC agent the entire time.

“Two potential assets in the same building, you had to know we’d need eyes on you,” said Evan Lorne, looking much more comfortable in his sleek black uniform than he ever had in his rumpled suits. “And is now really the time to be discussing this?”

“Rodney thinks it’s always the time to discuss things,” put in John, bringing up his shield to bash another attacker.

There was something unnatural about them— they were human, but more coordinated than even the best-trained troops he’d ever fought against— but also something vaguely familiar, and John was about to ask Rodney about it when a single figure stepped forward from the melee.

“Kolya,” spat John. “I see you’re not as dead as I’d thought.”

“Neither are you, colonel.” Acastus Kolya was as calm as ever, his cold smile never reaching his eyes. “And I see we’ve both made some new friends.”

“You’ve never had friends, Kolya,” John called. “But I’d be happy to introduce you to mine.”

“In good time, colonel,” he replied, still in that icy calm tone. “I am particularly interested in meeting your Dr. McKay.”

“You stay away from him!”

“Temper, temper,” chided Kolya. “I’d have thought your time in the ice would have— what’s the phrase they use these days?— chilled you out.”

“Dammit, Kolya—”

John broke off, stumbling, as a huge explosion ripped through the wall beside them, sending chunks of brickwork flying. Rodney turned his back, letting it bounce off his reinforced alloy suit, while John ducked under his shield. Lorne caught his arm, pulling him back out of the debris field, redirecting a few loose bricks with shots from his wristband weapons.

“What the hell?” the scientist demanded, following them. “Sheppard, how many people are trying to kill you?”

“Hey—” John began, but Lorne interrupted.

“That’s my partner,” he said, then reached up to touch his earpiece communicator. “Cadman, that was a little too close.”

“Screw you, Painter Boy,” said a new voice, not over the comm. “I never miss.”

“My codename is ‘The Artist’,” sighed Lorne, to the woman who had just repelled down from the rooftop of the half-collapsed building, into the empty space where Kolya and his minions had vanished.

“Also, you’re welcome,” she said, then smiled at John and Rodney. “I’m Cadman, by the way. Codename: Apocalypse.”

“Your codename is ‘The Targeter’,” said Lorne.

“We have bigger problems,” John interrupted. “Like Kolya and his undead army.”

“Technically, it’s mind-control,” corrected Rodney. “They’re fully alive.”

“Wonderful,” said John, dryly. “Look, Artist, Targeter, thanks for the assist, but we can take it from here.”

“No offense, colonel,” said Cadman. “But you can’t. Kolya’s had seventy years to upgrade his tech and build up his army, and you’re going to need more than a shield and a suit to take him down.”

“What, like some explosions?” Rodney said. “We’re not interested in being Weir’s errand boys.”

“That’s not what she wants,” said Lorne. “The crap she’s had to put up with dealing with the IOA… Colonel, she’s _glad_ you ran off with McKay. It means she has a lot more deniability when you pull your heroics.”

“Our orders are to join you,” Cadman added. “Under your command, colonel. With whatever backup Director Weir can get past the IOA to give you.”

“What, really?” asked Rodney, but John asked, “What backup?”

“I believe she means us, Colonel Sheppard,” said a new voice.

It belonged to a woman, dressed in gleaming silver armor and carrying foot-long carved wooden sticks in each hand, striding confidently toward them. Behind her was a man, over six feet tall and wearing a fringed buckskin jacket, like an old-time cowboy.

“I am Teyla of Athos,” the woman continued. “Daughter of Tagan, wielder of lightning and thunder. My companion is Ronon Dex, known as The Runner.”

“You’ll need a team to defeat Kolya,” put in Ronon. “And Lorne says you’re the guy to lead us.”

“I— okay,” said John. “I’ve got a score to settle with Kolya, and if you’re willing to help me, I guess I can’t turn you down.”

“Like you could get rid of me,” Rodney scoffed. “But if you give us a cutesy boy band name, so help me, Sheppard…”

John grinned. “How about… The Avengers?”

*

“Okay, so, to recap,” said John, ducking around a corner just before it exploded behind him. “Kolya’s army is _brainwashed aliens_ who outnumber us a hundred to one, and now they’ve opened a portal to let in more of them and/or something _worse_.”

“ _First, we’re outnumbered at least two hundred to one_ ,” said Rodney— John could just see the blue-and-silver blur of his armor flying overhead, “ _and second, I’m definitely betting it’s ‘and’._ ”

“Well, great,” John muttered.

He heard footsteps on the street and raised his shield, but it was only Cadman. “The carrier won’t get here in time,” she reported. “And Director Weir is busy trying to keep the IOA from interfering. We’re on our own to get that portal closed.”

“Even better,” said John. “Do we at least have eyes on whatever’s generating the portal?”

“ _I do_ ,” said Lorne. “ _Rooftop, your three o’clock. Some kind of machine— they’ve got Dr. Kavanaugh here, but I can’t tell if he’s brainwashed or not._ ”

“ _I_ knew _we couldn’t trust that idiot_ ,” said Rodney. “ _Just shoot him and be done with it._ ”

“Try to take him alive,” John corrected. “McKay, where’s Kolya now?”

“ _Six blocks east_ ,” the other man replied. “ _But there’s a lot of hostiles between him and you._ ”

“Right,” said John. “Teyla—”

“We can take ‘em,” rumbled Ronon, but Teyla, hovering just behind him, smiled.

“We will clear you a path, John,” she said.

“Right,” he repeated. “Cadman, get with Lorne and take out that machine. Rodney, buddy, I’m going to need you with them.”

John could hear the whine of repulsars overhead, but Rodney was silent for a long moment. “ _You be careful out there, Sheppard_ ,” he said, at last.

The colonel smiled. “You, too.”

*

Rodney paused in midair for a moment, watching as John threw him a half-mocking salute and turned down the street, before he kicked up his repulsars and flew toward Lorne’s location.

“MIKO,” he said, “Keep tabs on Sheppard, let me know if he does anything even remotely stupid.”

“ _Yes, doctor_ ,” his AI replied.

He spotted Lorne on the rooftop of a nearby parking structure, and Cadman already scaling the fire escape to get to it. There was a third human-sized figure sitting against the wall, motionless.

“Lorne, I was joking about shooting Kavanaugh,” Rodney said. “Mostly.”

The Artist looked up as Rodney set down beside him and raised his face plate. “I didn’t do anything to him,” Lorne said. “He just started crying and babbling…”

“Probably for the best,” said Rodney. “The machine.”

“The power source is here,” the agent said, proving he might have been almost as smart as he’d pretended to be when he got the job at McKay Industries. “But without any kind of schematics, there’s no way of knowing what will happen to the portal if we just… start pushing buttons.”

“Then let’s just blow it up,” put in Cadman, joining them.

“We can’t blow up every—” Lorne began, but Rodney interrupted, “She’s right.”

“Really?” they chorused.

Rodney put his face plate down again, scanning his display. “It’s giving off the same energy signature as the brainwashed army. It has to be shut down. But the portal… I don’t think destroying the source will close it.”

“Then what do we do?” asked Cadman.

“My repulsars,” Rodney explained. “I can use the energy to reverse the flow, then when you blow the generator, it should close the portal.”

“ _Should?_ ” asked John, over the radio.

“Ninety percent chance,” Rodney told him.

“ _With a ten percent chance of what?_ ”

“There’s no other choice,” said Rodney. “Besides, I’ve got the shield.”

“ _That turtle-shaped thing you claim gives your suit extra shielding?_ ” John retorted. “ _Rodney, you don’t even know if it works!_ ”

“Well, I’m about to find out,” he said. “Lorne, wait for my signal.”

“Sure thing,” answered Cadman, and Rodney lifted off again, headed for the glowing portal.

“MIKO, activate the shield,” Rodney ordered. It flared brightly green, ionizing the exterior of his suit, as he shifted his weight to free his arms and aim both gauntlet repulsars at the portal.

From high above, his targeting computer had locks on each of his teammates, but he was only really aware of John, a bright blue spot on his HUD as he made his way through Kolya’s army. He focused on John’s voice, not the words but just the sound of it, until a single sharp alarm cut through his concentration.

“ _Doctor, your suit’s power levels are falling to dangerous levels_ ,” said MIKO, and he could see the read-out in the corner of his eye had turned red.

“How long until the portal is reversed?” he asked, instead.

“ _At present estimates, five minutes, doctor_.”

“Can my suit last that long?”

“ _Unknown, doctor,_ ” the AI replied.

Rodney took a deep breath. “Increase power to the repulsars,” he said. “Override all warnings.”

He could have sworn he felt that MIKO paused, too. “ _Yes, doctor_.”

Rodney focused on John’s voice again, shouting orders to Teyla and Ronon, watching his suit display as the graph for the portal’s direction steadily grew and the gauge for his suit’s power began to blink dangerously red. Just as the power reached the very lowest readable level, the portal monitor blinked.

“Lorne!” Rodney yelled. “Blow it now!”

He heard the explosion far below, saw the portal crackle— and realized he’d failed to calculate the recoil energy it would release when it was forced shut.

“Sheppard,” he said, gasping. He wished he could switch to a private channel, but he could already feel the suit shutting down around him, its energy almost gone. 

“ _Rodney?_ ” John replied. His dot had stopped moving, but still shone brightly on his display. “ _Kolya got away, I’m on my way to—_ ”

“No!” Rodney interrupted. “No, stay back. The portal is going to blow, and I can’t be sure the shield will actually… So long, John.”

His suit’s systems began to flicker, his visual display cutting in and out, but he couldn’t miss the blinding explosion of the portal slamming shut. It threw him backward through the air, his boot repulsars shutting down and leaving him to tumble, uncontrolled, toward the ground.

The last thing he thought he heard was John still shouting his name.

*

John’s heart stopped as the blue-and-silver shape hurtled toward the ground. Part of his brain registered Lorne and Cadman reporting in that the portal had shut and the generator was destroyed, but he couldn’t take his eyes from Rodney’s falling suit.

“Rodney!” he shouted, over and over, running forward— he had no hope of catching him, not at that speed, but he had to do _something_. “Rodney!”

The wind around him picked up, and it took him much longer than it should have to realize that it was Teyla, twirling her Bantos rods to create a cushion of air, until the motionless suit slowed and Ronon could reach out, lowering it gently to the cracked pavement.

“Is he…?” Teyla asked, gently.

John crashed to his knees beside Rodney, gloved hands skidding over the armor until he found the hidden releases, peeling it back.

Rodney was equally motionless inside, blue eyes closed for a long heart-stopping moment before he blinked them open, already frowning. “Sheppard—”

That was as far as John let him get before he was kissing the scientist, hard. “I thought you were dead,” he rasped, not even caring how his voice cracked.

“Nah,” said Rodney, managing to raise an armored hand to tap his chest plate, where the faceted shield was now dark. “Shield works.”

Teyla landed beside them, smiling. “I am glad you are well, my friend,” she said.

John helped Rodney stand, not letting go even when it was clear the other man was more-or-less steady on his feet. Ronon stood beside Teyla, as Lorne and Cadman met them from the other side of the street.

“So, we kind of saved the day,” said Cadman. “Not a bad first time out.”

“Kolya’s still out there,” John reminded her.

“More reason to stay together,” rumbled Ronon. “Make a pretty good team.”

Lorne nodded. “What do you say, colonel?”

John looked at him for a moment, then turned back to Rodney. “Only if you’re with me, Rodney,” he said, softly.

The scientist snorted a laugh. “As if I’d let you do this sort of stupid heroics by yourself.”

John grinned and kissed him, with everyone watching. “Anybody else hungry?” he asked, when they broke for air. “I could go for a turkey sandwich about now.”

*

Weir folded her arms, looking at the six people across the conference table from her. “There’s been reports of someone amassing the materials for a fortified installation in the jungle of Bolivia,” she said, without preamble. “Someone matching General Kolya’s description.”

John, at the far end of the table, stood and picked up his shield from where he’d leaned it against his chair. “We can be wheels-up in twenty minutes.”

“Fifteen,” corrected Cadman. “Most of us are already in uniform.”

Rodney scowled at her. “My ‘uniform’ is a highly sophisticated—”

“She knows, Rodney,” said John, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed. “Artist, fire up the jet.”

“Yes, sir,” said Lorne. “C’mon, Ronon.”

“Keep in touch, colonel,” said Weir, as they left, and John offered her a salute that was only half-mocking. 

Rodney called his suit to him as soon as they hit the observation deck of McKay Tower— Avengers Tower, as it was coming to be known— but left his face plate down long enough to pull into a long kiss.

“For luck,” he said, and John grinned, slinging his shield into its holster on his back. 

“Avengers,” the colonel called, “assemble!”

THE END

**Who’s Who**  
 **John Sheppard/Colonel America** as Steve Rogers/Captain America  
 **Rodney McKay/Dr. Iron** as Tony Stark/Iron Man  
 **Teyla Emmagan** as Thor  
 **Ronon Dex/The Runner** as Bruce Banner/The Hulk  
 **Evan Lorne/The Artist** as Natasha Romanov/Black Widow  
 **Laura Cadman/The Targeter** as Clint Barton/Hawkeye  
 **Elizabeth Weir** as Nick Fury  
 **Radek Zelenka** as Pepper Potts  
 **Miko Kusanagi/MIKO** as JARVIS  
 **Richard Woolsey** as Maria Hill  
 **Aiden Ford** as Bucky Barnes


End file.
